You Belong With Me
by This Girl is on FIRE
Summary: Songfic to You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift. FAXNESS! DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING


**Hi! It's me with a new songfic for y'all! Enjoy!**

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Fangs talking to his girlfriend, Lissa, the friggin red haired wonder, on the phone. She's screaming at him over some sarcastic comment he made. From what Nudge told me, what happened was that Lissa had gotten a D- on a test in Science and had asked Fang if he thought she should've gotten a better grade and Fang said, "Of course. Because people definitely lay eggs."

Something me or anyone else in the flock, or with two brain cells, would have just rolled our eyes at, but Lissa made a big deal about it, saying Fang, or Nick as she calls him, doesn't believe in her and crap. I turn on my iPod that Anne gave me and put it on shuffle. The song that comes on is a heavy metal song called Paranoid by Black Sabbath, the type of music Lissa hates, but me and Fang love. She only listens to stuff like Hannah Montana, High School Musical, One Direction, and Justin Bieber. Blech.

Me and Lissa are polar opposites. She wears short, revealing skirts and 8 inch high heels. Every article of clothing that she owns is tight and uses less than a square foot of fabric. All I need is something that's not blood stained, most of the time, will me easily do an up and away, and I can fight erasers in. She's cheer captain and homecoming queen, while I'm in the bleachers, although I could do anything she could do without breaking a sweat. When will Fangrealize that he belongs ith me, not some red headed prep who doesn't even know his real name? Lissa will never know his story like I do, because she's not part of it. I'm the one who was there in the School with him. I'm the one who fights alongside him, I was there when Jeb left and betrayed us. Even if he were to tell her, which I would never EVER let him do, she would just think how awesome it is or how much of a freak he is. She could never understand.

Fang comes into my room and I shut off my iPod.

"Whatchya doin here? Shouldn't you be talking to your girlfriend?"

Fang sighs and rubs is head.

"I don't know. She's driving me insane! I just need to clear my head. Wanna go for a fly?" he asks me.

"Wow. I got more than one word from Fang! The world must be ending! But okay. Let's get outta here," I reply, I jump out the window and snap out my wings, Fang follows.

We fly in silence, but not an awkward silence, a comfortable silence. It's so easy like this. So simple when we're together, there are no secrets, no lies, just us.

"So, how's married life treating ya?" I say sarcastically.

Fang smiles. Actually smiles, he hasn't done that since before he started dating Lissa.

"I'm fine," he says to me, but I can see behind that emotionless brick wall, he's not.

"You can't seriously expect me to believe that."

"Just a little stressed," Fang tells me.

"Seems like you've been stressed ever since you started going out with her. Why are you with her anyway?" I ask.

He falls silent. I can tell he doesn't have an answer for that one.

We headed home and went into our separate bedrooms. About halfway through the night, I hear knocking at my door. I get up and cautiously open it, expecting an Erpeer or something to pop out at me, only to find Fang, on the brink of tears. I invite him inside.

"Hey, what's wrong? You do realize that it's like, 3:00 am. Right?" I say.

He shrugs.

"Come on. Something has to be wrong, you look like your about to cry."

"I just got a text of a video of Lissa cheating on me with some random gy at a party tonight," he answers me.

I sit their. Silent. I'm speechless.

"Well," I start off, "you know what they say about cheaters."

"What?"

"I don't know,I asked you. That was my sad attempt at humor."

He chuckles slightly and gives me a half smile. God, doesn't he see? I'm the one who knows his favorite songs, the one he tells his dreams to. If anyone knows where he belongs, it's me.

We sit there, staring at each other for a few minutes, until he leans in and kisses me.


End file.
